


sing the songs of days gone by

by kattyangel



Category: Byzantium (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 09:51:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kattyangel/pseuds/kattyangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things never changed, even when they do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sing the songs of days gone by

**Author's Note:**

> Literally finished watching the movie an hour ago. I tried sleeping, but this plagued my mind, so I just couldn't rest until I wrote this down.
> 
> Sorry for any mistakes, I did write it at 4am.

Some things never changed, even when they do.

They were still a pair of immortals, two against the world. But now it was not her and her mother, but her and her boyfriend, her partner, her lover. 

She still fed on those ready to die. But now it was two angels of death instead of one. Now each would take a wrist and drain to the very last drop of blood together. It had been simpler than she had thought it would be, them embracing the mantal hand in hand. They always fed together. He fed as she had fed, in the least monstrous way possible.

They made quite the pair, the two of them. The weakness wiped clean from his gait, his lanky body became lithe, his stumbling movements turned graceful. They were a sight to behold, the two otherworldly beings, hair the colour of fire, of the setting sun, walking down the street – seemingly caught in their own little world.

They rarely left the other’s side. Whereas her mother left her alone often, she found that they could barely stand to be apart. Holding the other’s hand tightly became less of a habit and more of a necessity. Their touches were craved down to the very soul of them.

Still, it took years, decades really, for Frank to do more than kiss her. As there were no secrets between them, Eleanor knew that he was a virgin, and he knew of her rape. Unsure in himself and afraid of hurting her, it took time for his courage to let him follow through. But it was well worth the wait. He worshipped every inch of her, with kisses and reverent touches. He spent hours, day, weeks, learning the best ways to make her laugh, make her sigh, make her moan his name in abandon. They once spent a year just making love, only ever leaving their current abode to feed. It had been glorious. 

They never did stop travelling. No matter how she had hated it so, the moving around, never truly settling down had been ingrained in her. Besides that beautiful year, they never spent more than a couple months in one place. It was often a hassle to make a living, but it kept them safe – so she would just one day pack her bags, and Frank would do the same, for he would follow her to the ends of the world. It made her heart scream with joy at how easily he would drop everything for her.

There was still times when she would miss her mother. For two hundred years it had been just them, and despite their differences, she loved her mother dearly. During those times, when the sadness paralyzed her very being, he would hold her tight and not let go. He was showing her he would never let go. It helped. 

She did see her mother again, more than a century later. It was a small little fishing town, much like where they had been born, where two hundred years later Frank had lived. Her mother was still in the company of Darvill, who seemed to make her happy, in their own way. It had been a good day, but her mother had been right, it had been time to move on. This time, though, with promises to meet again much sooner.

In the mean time, Eleanor taught Frank the piano. His long fingers picked up the keys well, but besides learning the duet pieces, he did not find himself lost in the instrument as she had. Instead his passion lay in the guitar, even more suited to his long fingers than the piano. He loved to play, crooning songs that were old when he was still mortal, slowly dying of his disease. Now he sang for her, played for coin on the streets, and even wrote songs when it struck his fancy. He always carried his guitar with him, so there was always music in their never-ending life. 

She knew of the brethren now, but did not let her fear of them control her life. Her and Frank kept moving, living their nomad life to the fullest. It was a hard life, but a fulfilling one. It hadn’t been like this with Clara. He made things better, just with a crooked grin and a long embrace. 

Eternity was something she could imagine with him.

Eternity was not so daunting anymore.

Thanks to him. 

 

End.


End file.
